windswept pasture
a horseshoe hangs
on the gate
In springtime, under the old barn eaves, he shoes the thin-soled mare. The woman holds the chestnut’s lead as he measures, trims, and shapes the hooves. When summer comes, they move beneath a mesquite’s sparse shade. With his shirt off, he jokes and she laughs. Muscular from hard labor, he places the mare’s hoof between his knees, then bends to tack the shoe. Sweat beads his bare shoulders. He grins, then wipes the droplets away with a towel stored in his box of nippers and nails.
Autumn wind twists the mare’s flaxen mane into witch’s knots. The woman untangles them with her fingers while he works. That winter she makes a difficult decision and sells the soft-footed chestnut. His farrier skills are no longer needed and along with the mare, the laughter disappears.
wild ducks vee
across a dimming sky
distant rain
lives in South Texas. She has written haibun since 2004 and has numerous works published in Frogpond, Haibun Today, Contemporary Haibun Online, and other online and print journals. She has written a collection of haibun entitled Unsaddled.
